


Rebelmaker

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Sickfic, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25428004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ashe catches a cold, Amélie yeehaws it away.
Relationships: Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix
Kudos: 37





	Rebelmaker

Rebels do get sick.

No matter how strongly Ashe believes they don't.

She barely catches anything and masterfully ignores it till it goes away. _I'm fine, I'm a rebel, and rebels don't get sick_ , she repeats the mantra each rare old time.

She can’t stand being ill. Pain, and whatever else can come with the unfortunate state, isn’t the problem; weakness, however, is. As a gang leader, as a rebel, she believes she's not allowed to be weak.

Despite her beliefs, that's okay, she can be weak. With Amélie by her side, she's allowed to.  
  


Ashe tosses in bed and turns to meet Amélie. "You're in my shirt again."

"You're in my t-shirt _still_ ," she smiles back. "We have to change it, then get back to sleep. But first, you'll drink more herbal tea I made."

"I'm not sick, it's just a cold." Ashe tries to suppress the cozy, pleasant feeling of being cosseted by her only weakness. No more weaknesses allowed; she's a rebel, she's not sick.

"Just a cold is being sick," Amélie is concerned. "Stop thinking you're fine when you're not. Come on now, here, drink this," she hands her a small cup. "It's your favorite."

"You thrive off of this, don't you?" Ashe dares in between sips.

Silence.

"Idiot. I thrive off of you," Amélie disapproves, "healthy." She waits for Ashe to finish her tea.

"Done," she puts the empty cup aside and stares back at Amélie. "Yet you gotta know that I won't get better unless you kiss me. Kiss me."

Tepid lips press against Ashe's hot forehead, sending a shiver down her spine.

"No," she complains, "lips."

"Non," Amélie returns. "You'll melt me and thereupon die without me."

True that, but Ashe would unironically rather die now. Her body feels numb, she somehow looks even paler. She hates it and wants it to end, not to get worse. "O-oh," she groans, "fuck me!"

"Not in that state," Amélie tries to amuse her, "when you're all better, though…"

"Fuck you," a heavy sigh.

"Yes, then you can fuck me," she puns again, tiny smile on her face.

"Sto-o-op!" Ashe falls back onto pillows. "You're _so_ loud."

Amélie's voice is _quiet_ , but it's too much for Elizabeth right now. Her head pounds; she can feel her temperature rise and her muscles begin to ache. Apparently, it's worse than just a cold. She hopes Amélie doesn't notice how bad it is.

Of course, she notices. "Ain't you the loud one?" her voice even quieter.

"That's what worryin' makes you say, 'ain't'?" Ashe finally beams. "I'm healed! You've yeehawed it away, don't you worry no more."

"Well, that's what _you_ make me say, as you are my…" Amélie ponders, "rebelmaker."

"Oh my god," Ashe whispers and slowly closes her eyes, "that's so–"

Amélie seizes the moment to cup her face and place a quick peck on her lips, "I, too, love you." She locks their lips again for just a bit longer. "But as it's clearly not over, I'll worry some more and get you through it, rebel."


End file.
